


sweet dreams (are made of this)

by freysan



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Brainwashing, Choking, Degradation, Edging, Emotional Manipulation, Humiliation, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Psychological Manipulation, blowjob, demeaning words, emotional masochism, erotic asphyxiation, i don’t know how to tag, if you see something that needs to be added please tell me, sexual masochism through emotional play, so I can add it, unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 01:34:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13179570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freysan/pseuds/freysan
Summary: “Are you kidding me?!” Mingyu sneers at him. “Who else is going to have you beside me?”It hurts, the reminder that he’s useless, that he’s inadequate, that nobody will want him. But the idea that Mingyu loves him enough to want him, to own him, it also gives him happiness. The two contrasting emotions consume Minghao.





	sweet dreams (are made of this)

**Author's Note:**

> So uhm... please read the tags? I put everything I can think of that applies in the story. If I missed something, please tell me so I can add it. I'm really sorry. I don't know why I wrote this. I mean I have reasons but it's kinda difficult to explain, lol. In summary, I'm not feeling well and writing is my catharsis so I ended up writing something horrible. I need to change this habit.
> 
> Mostly set in Minghao's POV. (._.)

 

**_some of them want to use you…_ **

 

 

A few seconds to breathe is all Minghao gets before Mingyu’s hands are back on his head, pressing him down against the pillow once again, muffling his already quiet whimpers.

“Straighten up!” Mingyu snarls at him, free hand landing a sharp blow on his already reddened ass cheek, adding more to the marks that he will surely feel for days.

Minghao heeds the command, kneeling and forcing his legs to tense up and squeeze the cock that is fucking between his thighs, nudging against his own dick. His eyes sting with tears, head becoming fuzzy from the lack of oxygen.

He can’t. He can’t! He trashes around, painfully tugging against the ribbon tying his wrists haphazardly behind him, trying to reach for Mingyu because he still needs to breathe, still needs to come, still needs… _please, please, please._

It took a while but Mingyu does let him go, just for a few seconds before the hand is back, pushing him down again, and the cycle repeats. Minghao losses count. He’s unaware of the pillow growing wetter with his tears and drool, of his throat hurting from stifled moans and cries, of the aches of his own body. All he is aware of are the sensations that overwhelm him, Mingyu using him for pleasure, his own itching desire for release. _More, more, more, please, just a little bit more._

He took his deepest gasp when Mingyu completely releases his hold on him, the sudden relief becoming his final push, and he shudders through the orgasm that hits him like a freight train.

Minghao nearly blacks out, nearly collapses on bed, but Mingyu’s rough hands hold his hips tighter, keeping him upright as the thrusts continue, almost slamming into him with increased fervor, stopping only when he comes. And come Mingyu does with a guttural growl, leaving warm semen dripping between his thighs. Minghao feels him thrust weakly a few more times before withdrawing.

His hazy mind feels Mingyu untie the ribbon that binds him and tap condescendingly on his hips before leaving to perhaps clean himself up. “Thanks for the fuck.”

Minghao groans as awareness seeps into him, together with the soreness of his exerted body and the accompanying regret that comes from being used and left behind. He falls on the bed with nobody to support him and curls in on himself. He feels cold and filthy, even when Mingyu returns and lies beside him, even with the blanket he wraps around himself. He doesn’t know if it’s because of the space between the two of them or because he’s still lying on his own semen with the taller’s dried cum sticky between his thighs.

 

 

“Are you ok, Myungho?” Soonyoung asks him, worry etched on his face.

He is just hanging out in their acad org’s den for his break and being interrogated by his older org mates is not part of Minghao’s plan for the day. Embarrassment creeps up on him, the memory of hands holding him down makes his skin prickle. He tries to tug his oversized sweater down to hide the marks left on his wrist. Not that it can help because Soonyoung and Jihoon have already seen it (thus the question), but he has to make sure nobody else who will arrive will see.

The older looks at him expectantly, waiting for an answer, but he doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to elaborate anything knowing how protective Soonyoung can be. In the end, he draws closer into himself instead.

“Leave him alone,” Jihoon chastises the other. “Some couples are just into stuffs like that.”

“I know. I’m just making sure he’s ok,” Soonyoung frowns before badgering on. “It’s consensual, isn’t it?”

“Soonyoung…” Jihoon’s voice turns exasperated, seeing Minghao’s uncomfortable stance. “I don’t think we have the right to speak to him about this.”

“What do you mean we don’t? I’m just concerned—”

“Hey hyungnim,” Chan joins them then, stopping Soonyoung mid-speech. Minghao sighs in relief at the interruption. The youngest squeezes himself between the two eldest students in the room, laying his laptop case on the table carefully despite his usual hasty manner, before properly looking at them. “What’s with the strange atmosphere?”

“Nothing,” Jihoon mumbles. “Just senior stuffs.”

“Oh, ok. Myungho-hyung, you alright? You look pretty dazed.”

“I’m fine, Channie,” he clears his throat and smiles at their youngest but not before throwing a quick glance at Soonyoung. Surely, he won’t talk about things like this when a freshman is around?

“Yeah, he’s good,” the man acquiesce but his accompanying stare reads ‘this talk isn’t over yet’.

But it is. For Minghao it is over no matter what Soonyoung or anybody else says. And if he doesn’t remember giving Mingyu consent last night, it’s really none of the elder’s business.

 

 

“Open your mouth, baby boy,” Mingyu whispers, standing in front of his kneeling form, casting shadow on him. “Be useful and let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours.”

He just got back from his part-time work, practically just entered the house, when Mingyu gave him the order to kneel. He is exhausted, not in the mood, but still he obeys him as he always does.

He only sets his bag aside before going down on his knees before Mingyu and opening his mouth for him, still on his white coat and all-black ensemble. Oh, he’s going to regret it if he dirties these clothes. But he tilts his head up and shows his flattened tongue just like he knows the other likes.

Fingers runs through his hair, scratching his scalp gently and calming him down. Yet once he relaxes enough to close his eyes, the same warm fingers grip tighter, hurting his scalp and holding him still.

“Open wider,” Mingyu grunts.

Minghao does. His breath hitches when he feels the head of Mingyu’s cock being guided inside him, inch by thick inch, torturously slow. He barely hears Mingyu’s low growl once he has all of him, the tip of the cock pressing against the back of his throat heavily. He is mostly preoccupied by the heady smell as his nose presses against Mingyu’s shaved skin. Mingyu himself seem to love the feel of his mouth by the sounds he makes and the way he is trying to press deeper inside him.

“That’s it. You’re taking me so well. See your lips stretched out so prettily for me.”

Minghao tries to breathe through his nose, his hands gripping the taller’s hips to ground and balance himself. It’s a good decision, he decides, as Mingyu holds his head with both hands and starts moving, starts fucking his mouth. It begins slow, building momentum until Minghao chokes and gags on his own saliva, helpless against both hands that hold him still as Mingyu fucks into him without care, taking his pleasure from his pliant form and submissiveness.

“Look at me. Open your eyes and look at me,” Mingyu commands, grins down at him as he tries to look up when he couldn’t even move his head. “That’s right, whore, you should always look at your owner when he’s fucking your mouth. This is the only thing you’re good at.”

Minghao whines, trying to hang on to Mingyu’s every word despite his fogging mind. He digs his fingers against the other’s skin as the taller continues his assault, tries to at least take a breath to alleviate the blooming pain on his jaw and throat. But it’s difficult, too difficult to do so. He feels so powerless, he can’t stop the drool that trickles down is chin and the tears that start to prickle his eyes. But he takes it. He’s only good at this after all.

He sobs when Mingyu comes, pushing inside him with force. It catches him off guard that his throat spasms. He feels like throwing up but he knows he will regret it if he does. Instead, he swallows everything, tries to do so at least, sucking Mingyu’s cock and not letting a single drop of cum escape.

Mingyu groans appreciatively at his effort, thrusts a few more times as he always does before stilling completely, slowly withdrawing his cock off his mouth. But Minghao knows his task is not over yet. He holds its base and licks it up, lapping at it until it’s clean and Mingyu is pushing against his shoulder to make him stop.

“That’s enough.” Mingyu wipes a trail of his drool before inserting the wet thumb on his mouth. Minghao takes it obediently, sucks at it, eyes glossy with unshed tears and his own need. “You’ve been good. A good, good boy always at my disposal. My personal whore.”

Mingyu’s own personal whore, only good at taking his cock. The statement makes his chest constrict. He nearly flinches away when Mingyu bends down for a kiss but he catches himself the last minute and accepts, giving a timid smile when they separate.

“Thank you for your service,” Mingyu whispers, smiling back at him before straightening up and stepping away, turning to hide in his personal office for the rest of the night. “Dinner’s on the fridge. Don’t forget to cleanup later.”

Minghao watches him leave just as suddenly as he came to him earlier, coming when he needs a quick fuck, leaving him when it’s done. He looks down at his straining erection still confined in his pants and wonders whether he can please himself alone.

 

 

“You know that you can leave, right?” Seokmin looks at him with a tinge of sadness. It looks so out-of-place in his usually happy face that Minghao feels a bit of guilt creeping in him. But he remains firm.

“I’m ok, Seok,” he gives him a reassuring smile. “We’re ok.”

In the background, they can hear the rest of their workmates busily serving customers. It makes Minghao glad that their shift at the cafe ends just before the rush hours begin. The management made a good decision with it, too. Seungkwan is a people person who is good with words while Hansol is quick with his hands and mind. They are the better pair compared to Seokmin and him who are both distractible and scatterbrained. He, more so these days than usual.

“You don’t look happy,” Seokmin says.

“I am happy?!” he insists with a glare. “I am happy with Mingyu.”

“But is he happy with you?”

The question catches him off guard. Is Mingyu happy with him?

“Minghao, I’m not trying to ruin your relationship but the two of you… none of you looks good. Whatever is happening between you guys, it doesn’t seem healthy anymore.”

“But what is healthy and what is not?” he challenges. “Isn’t it for us to decide? What do you know anyway?!” He hisses, tries to keep his voice low so nobody else will notice them arguing from the backroom.

“Hao—”

“I am ok, Seokmin. And I am staying with him. Now if he is not, then…” he trails off, fear making him pause. But he regains his wit quickly and proceeds despite his wavering voice. “If Mingyu really wants, he is free to leave me behind.”

That’s what he said before turning his back from Seokmin and bidding everybody else with a tightlipped goodbye. And yet as he walks home alone, he wallows on the thought that maybe, just maybe, Mingyu will really leave him.

If he does, what will become of him then?

 

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Mingyu sneers as he fucks Minghao roughly from behind, holding his hips tight enough to bruise. “Who else is going to have you beside me, you useless whore?”

He’s on his hands and knees, crying openly by now. Tears stream down his cheeks but he doesn’t wipe them off. He can’t, even when snot mixes with them. He doesn’t have the permission nor the right to. Minghao sobs when the thrusts stop altogether.

“You can’t even make yourself useful,” Mingyu scoffs. “Just letting me do all the work, huh?!”

They have been going at it for quite some time now, it feels like hours have gone by. Mingyu has been toying with him since early evening, fucking him vigorously and quickly before slowing down and turning his thrusts into forceful ones that come only for every three or so heartbeat of his, bringing him to the brink of coming and then taking it all away.

At the back of his mind, he knows his tears are mostly from oversensitivity and edging, but Mingyu’s words also work its wonders to him. It hurts, the reminder that he’s useless, that he’s inadequate, that nobody will want him aside from him; but the idea that the other loves him enough to want him, to own him, it also gives him happiness. The two contrasting emotions consume him just as much as Mingyu’s erratic pace physically drains him.

He whimpers when Mingyu doesn’t move at all despite his pleas. He pushes against him, begs him to please, _please fuck me, please,_  but Mingyu just chuckles darkly.

“How about you fuck yourself on me? Work for yourself if you want to come.”

He feels a new wave of desperation that prompts another set of tears from him. Everything hurts by now but Mingyu’s still not moving, will not if he means his words.

“C’mon,” the taller prompts, running a hand on his back enticingly. “See if you can make me come, too.”

Minghao whimpers but starts to move, pulling himself off then pushing back on the dick that impales him. He has to prove himself, has to show Mingyu he’s not useless. He has to make Mingyu come. And he gives his best, gives the most he can, but it seems that Mingyu is far from satisfied.

“More,” Mingyu huffs impatiently. “Move faster.”

Minghao is trying, he tries so hard, but when his aching muscles fail him and his hands give up, the disappointed sigh Mingyu gives overpowers every other pain in his body.

And he’s sorry, he’s so sorry, _please forgive me. Let me try again._

“It’s ok, baby boy, you gave your best.”

 _No!_  He sobs, propping himself up on his elbows to resume his task. He pushes back on Mingyu again, little but eager movements, and finds that the angle works better for him. He moans openly, loudly, and feels Mingyu holding his waist.

“Oh, good boy,” Mingyu praises, “such a good, good whore.”

He preens at the words and if Mingyu resumes his movements to meet his thrusts, he cannot bring himself to care anymore. For what seems like the first time that evening, the pleasure overcomes the pain and everything starts to feel blissfully amazing. He becomes mindless in the sensations, the endless denial pushing him to higher euphoria and all he can do is continue rutting and chanting words of pleas and begs.

He blacks out with the intensity of his orgasm but still hears Mingyu’s words before he completely falls into unconsciousness.

“Thank you. I love you.”

 

 

“You are fucking sick,” Junhui says, disgust dripping from his words as he stares at the marks that peek from Minghao’s wrists and neck.

“Look who’s talking?” Minghao chuckles mockingly. “You whore yourself out unnecessarily despite having a steady boyfriend. Wonwoo-yah, is it fun sharing Junhui?”

Wonwoo looks at them with disinterest. He takes a long drag of his cigarette and blows the smoke off slowly. “That’s hyung for you, brat. And it’s called compromising.”

“This isn’t about me,” Junhui huffs, persistent to remain on topic and avoid his own persecution.

Minghao can’t believe the other thinks he has the right to preach. The last time they saw each other, he had to bail Wonwoo out of jail for a trouble Junhui caused. And yet despite that, here he is now, with a holier-than-thou attitude. He lets him, anyway. It’s rare enough to see the two of them and he knows they’d be out of his hair soon enough. They can’t even be bothered to enter his apartment building, opting to remain outside where they can smoke, Wonwoo by the wall and Junhui sitting on the hood of their old car.

“It’s really none of your business,” Minghao says tiredly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It is if it’s hurting you,” Junhui insists. “You’re like my brother. Besides, you’re also hurting this kid—”

“Mingyu. His name is Mingyu.”

“Yeah, whatever,” the older Chinese waves his hand in dismissal. “Thing is, I know your ways, Haohao. You’re destroying him.”

“Just like you destroyed Wonwoo?”

“This isn’t about me!” Junhui raises his voice, annoyed. The sudden roughness catches his otherwise indifferent boyfriend.

“Listen, brat,” Wonwoo interjects, tone just as tired as Minghao’s, “we’re all fucked up here but at least we know what we’re up to. I know what I’m up to. This kid, however, Mingyu is it? Don’t make monsters you can’t control. I hate you but I’m not that eager to see you dead.”

“Thanks for the concern,” he scoffs, “but Junhui will probably end up killing me first.”

“Damn fucking right, I might,” the man grumbles, flicking his cigarette to get rid of the ashes. “But not today, Haohao. I need money.”

Minghao raises an eyebrow at the sudden statement and huffs when Junhui’s glare turns into tentative, shy smile. He laughs even as he sheds some money because this part is easy. This is comfortable. This is the Junhui that he knows, the one that doesn’t care about him when there is nothing for him to gain. It’s ok. Minghao likes this one better.

 

 

Wonwoo, though, might have a point. Minghao realizes this as Mingyu greets him darkly when he enters the apartment.

“Where did you come from?”

“Out with friends,” he says.

“You smell like cigarette.”

“They smoke.”

“Do they also hug and kiss all of their other friends?”

Oh, he saw. Mingyu must have passed them by outside just as Junhui was giving him his customary goodbye kiss. It doesn’t mean anything, Junhui just loves doing it because Minghao hates it. The only reason he even allows him is because years of experience proved that standing still and taking it ends quicker than any attempt to push and reject the elder, which results to a longer scuffle. Minghao grimaces as he thinks of the other’s lips on his. He doesn’t know where that mouth has been, he probably needs to wash his own now.

He zones in to the idea and turns to head to the bathroom thoughtlessly but Mingyu’s hand grips his arm, spinning him around with force. It catches him off guard that he nearly loses his footing if not for the taller’s hold. For the first time, the intensity of his glare intimidates him.

“I am talking to you, don’t turn your back on me,” the taller growls.

“Mingyu, it hurts,” he protests, tries to get away but the grip tightens. “You’re hurting me!”

“Who is he? Is he my replacement now? Am I not pleasing you enough?!”

“He is not! He’s just a friend, fucking damn it!”

“Do not shout at me!!” Mingyu bellows, slapping him hard.

Minghao doesn’t see it coming but the pain that blooms on his cheek leaves him speechless. He tastes blood on his mouth and looks back at Mingyu in shock. Oh, it feels nice. He missed this. Seungcheol was so fucking good at this until he left.

“Do it again,” he whispers, eyes widening in glee. But the other is already stepping away from him.

“No,” Mingyu refuses, raising both hands in surrender. “Fuck no!”

“Please, Mingyu,” he tries again, willing to beg if he must. He reaches for a hand and brings it to his face, rubbing his cheeks on it. “One more time.”

“No, I can’t!” Mingyu pulls away, holding both his hands close to his chest as if Minghao burns. “I’m so sorry, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he insists, managing to corner Mingyu on the wall. “You can. For me?”

“No,” Mingyu whimpers quietly but it is loud enough for Minghao to hear. “Peach, Minghao, please don’t make me do it.”

_Oh. Shame._

Minghao stops then, accepts his defeat for the moment as he hears the word. Peach. The safeword that has remained unused because Minghao revels in every abuse inflicted on him. He never thought Mingyu himself would use it. But he did and Minghao knows enough to stop.

“Peach,” Mingyu whispers one more time, sitting on the floor crumpling in on himself.

Minghao feels a sudden burst of fondness for him. Mingyu dominates him so well but he refuses to use blunt force, refuses to hurt him physically, too scared to cause damage when there’s nothing to be scared of. It’s disappointing but in Minghao’s eyes, Mingyu is still perfect. And now he has proven he has the strength, he just needs courage to be able to use it. Minghao thinks he can teach him. He is a patient man after all.

For now, he schools his expression into a careful smile, kneeling to join Mingyu on the floor “Ok. I won’t force you. I’m so sorry, we’re stopping here.”

“Please don’t replace me,” Mingyu pleads, eyes begging just like a puppy trying to appease their master. “I am trying. I just… I don’t want to hit you but I’ll do anything else… anything you want me to do. Just don’t replace me.”

“Of course not,” he coos, wipes the few tears Mingyu has shed and fixes the disheveled hair. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Ok,” Mingyu nods in eager acceptance, a small smile grazing his lips. “Ok.”

Ah, he’s really perfect, Minghao thinks as he rewards him with a chaste kiss.

“We’re not going anywhere.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mingyu knows what Minghao is doing. It’s ok, he likes it. Jisoo has tried to convince him to leave, Jeonghan has called him sick one too many times, but he doesn’t care. He enjoys it. The fact that Minghao loves him enough to trust him, to own him, to rule over him, it gives him happiness.

 

 

**_…some of them want to be used by you_ **

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry again. But for details that I probably skipped in the story:  
> 1) Minghao calls the shot. He requests those scenes from Mingyu.  
> 2) Soonyoung and Jihoon have no idea what Minghao is up to. They don't personally know Mingyu.  
> 3) Seokmin knows both of them but doesn't know what they're up to. That doesn't stop him from worrying.  
> 4) Junhui and Wonwoo know what's going on because they know Minghao thoroughly (Junhui mostly, Wonwoo by association).  
> 5) Minghao is the sexual masochist (and manipulative bastard) in the tag, Mingyu is the emotional masochist.
> 
> If there's anything vague, ask and I'll try to answer. There's so many loopholes but the impossibility of this fic also comforts me. Maybe if you convince me enough, I might finish that other story that is parallel to this one, only positive and disgustingly domestic. It's like the other side of the mirror, similar in some scenes, but I can't seem to finish it because I'm not good with fluff. (>o<)


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